Emergent
by mugglesarah
Summary: Post-Allegiant. Three and a half years later and Tobias is travelling city to city in order to explain the situations currently unfolding for them. On one trip to Baltimore things go wrong and he winds up running into a girl who looks identical to Tris. But could it possibly be her? Or is this girl merely a stranger?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! Okay so this is an idea I've had rolling around in my head since the end of Allegiant which, I have to say, I was none too pleased with. I know it's kind of a cliché idea perhaps but I really wanted to give it a shot and write. Anyway, here is the first chapter. The story will be told in dual perspectives and will contain one segment of Tris and one for Tobias each chapter, except for a couple after this one which may have some more just to get things moving a little faster.**

**Anyway, here is the first chapter. I'd appreciate your reviews and criticism and perhaps just tell me if anyone is interested in this premise of a story? I hope you enjoy!**

**Tris**

_Who am I? _It's the first thought I manage to have when I come to, cool metal pressing into my back and the majority of my skin exposed to the cold air. I don't know why, but my first instinct is to get up, run away, as fast as you can. There's a panic building in my chest as my heart beats wildly and all I want to do is run, run, run. But I'm trapped.

My own body will not obey my commands. I cannot get up; I cannot move my legs or even open my eyes. I feel a weight holding me down, supressing every action I attempt to make. I don't know where I am or who I am or why I can't move. Have I died? Do you forget who you are when you die?

I worry no one will come for me, that I'll be stuck lying perfectly still on this metal table forever. It makes me scared, so scared I want to cry. For whatever reason there is another part of me, one that overrules all others, that determines I am not to cry. I can't show fear. Instead I work on controlling the parts of myself that I can. How quickly I breathe, how fast my heart is. One thought solidifies in my head that gives me a sense of calm. I feel it is a thought I have had a dozen of times before. I grasp to it and believe it because for some reason I feel it will be my saving grace.

_This isn't real._

**Tobias**

I awake with the familiar pounding of my head, all the blood vessels constricting as though they were trying to keep the blood away from my brain like it will save me from my dreams. I see her there, feel her hands holding me, and hear her voice soothing me. It is simultaneously heaven and hell. I try not to dwell on it.

The bed I'm staying in feels wrong, as most beds do. This one worse though, some parts feeling as though the springs are poking through and in other spots like I may just fall in. Can't expect much when you're just being sent to whatever part of the world you're told you are needed in.

Evelyn was using my apartment in Chicago far more than I have had the chance to in the last year or so. I told her no rush to find another place to stay straight away when I'm being shuffled from one region to the next. I am their malleable tool. I do not argue or even question the places they send me. Instead I go where they tell me when they tell me to and just hope that some place somewhere might possibly not hold memories of her. As though some corner of the world won't have a sky the colour of her eyes or girls with dirty blonde hair tucked tightly into buns or swinging loosely in braids. The wind carries her laugh and the train whooshing by is the reminder of her feet running beside mine. The whole world is made of Tris.

This time I've gone the farthest I have ever travelled before. Two nights prior I'd been approached, and even though it was supposed to be my weekend off, they wanted to know if I'd be willing to ride to a city known as Baltimore in order to help with sorting out business and speak to some of the people from a failed experiment there.

I never decline. So I closed my eyes and gripped the edge of my seat the entire plane ride here, hoping that when we landed and I opened my eyes I'd be someplace completely separate from all I've known before. A desolate wasteland or frozen tundra. Instead I walked off the plane and into a land that looked much alike where I was from. The crumbling buildings and cracked black tops eerily similar to the ones I'd just flown away from.

I sigh heavily as I pull my duffel bag from the heap on the ground and numbly receive my orders. "Distraught families" and "Uncertain citizens" telling me all I needed to know. I was on crowd control. Talk to the gatherings of people, explain what is going on. Factions, freedom; Baltimore, the rest of an entire planet, one not overrun by monsters or radioactive wastelands. A world full of living, breathing people. Up until a few weeks ago they hadn't known any better. This experiment was the longest left in the dark. Almost four years after Chicago had learnt the truth.

"They're irate, almost feral. All of them are feeding off of the others. Be careful." I nod my acknowledgement to my commanding officer. I wasn't often careful. The doctor my mother insisted I see tried to tell me I was reckless due to a lack of desire to live. I always just laughed and said clearly she was not a member of Dauntless.

I sling my bag over my shoulder and accept my map with directions and a schedule. Speaking arrangements, where I'll be sleeping, all of the things I need to know but they long learned I wasn't willing to stand around and listen to. Walking forward into the city like this the stillness around me is filled with Tris. How her hand would reach out and clasp mine as we walked and the way she'd hold my name in her mouth before she spoke it to pull me into an important conversation. I imagine how different this all would be. If only she survived as she was meant to.

We'd be a team, me and her, we would set out on this somewhat noble and somewhat pointless mission of healing the world. She'd run her hand up and down my arm on all of those terrifying flights and I would rely on her intelligence to handle speaking to the confused and heart broken, the ones beyond rational thought that just seemed lost. I guess learning your whole life is a lie can do that to you.

That's how I feel, a little over a mile later when I hear the plane taking off to fly back to Chicago and I remember that Tris is not here. She will not hold my hand.

"Fuck," I mutter as I nearly fall, my eyes adjusting to the weathered wasteland beneath my feet. Damn ground is so uneven I can't even walk without nearly falling over. I focus my energy on my course the rest of the way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello again! Thank you all so much for the interest you are expressing. I received more reviews and follows than I originally anticipated from the first chapter so thanks. I also want to say that daily updates like this probably won't be a thing too often because I'm currently in college and work two jobs. So I'm busy, but also foolish because I've still decided to dedicate my time to this. I will forewarn when updates will be further apart due to long work weeks or exams or anything. I just ask that you are patient with me!**

**Also, I should have clarified last time that Tris' perspective had been set three and a half years prior to where Tobias' later picked up. This chapter is still more set up and then we'll hit more of the meat of the story next time around.**

**Please continue with your feedback! I find Tobias hard to write as I feel like he was poorly represented in Allegiant and so don't feel like I have much source material to go off when writing from his perspective. I'm struggling with it and am open to any suggestions you have. Also just any comments or critiques are welcome! Thank you again and sorry for the rambling.**

**Tris**

"Now, Eleanor, we know this is a big step for you. We want you to take your time to acquaint yourself. Don't be afraid to ask for help, alright dear?" This is what the woman whose name I was unable to store says as she leads me down a series of monotonous hallways and staircases that seem to make up this giant hospital. I'm out of breath just trying to keep up with her.

I nod, people speak so much here. Words all jumbled together into run-on sentences that I can't keep straight. All I gather from her diatribe is that she is going to be one of those ladies who insist on calling me pet names such as dear and darling. "Call me, Elle."

She smiles again, her fakely pink lips cracking as they stretch unnecessarily wide. "Of course, sweetie."

Not rolling my eyes is a feat in and of itself. Finally, gratefully, we stop outside of a door and she pulls out a key, unlocking it swiftly and swinging the door wide. "Here we are!" she chirps and ushers me in to the small room.

It's nothing special, just two chairs, a desk, and computer. There's a shelf high on the wall that's bare aside from a layer of dust and I spot a printer hidden beneath the desk. Somehow it all manages to be overwhelming.

"Now, just because you're done training and technically working on your own does not mean that you can't call me. I mean it, any question at all, just call and I'll help." Her smile is too bright, like an luminescent bulb in a bedside lamp. I feel weary just watching the cheeriness.

I nod in some form of thanks and walk over to the computer; pressing the on button and watching everything in front of me turn to life.

"You remember the processes?" Another nod. "Okay good, for the next few days you'll just be doing the patients being discharged from the hospital. After that we'll add some other tasks, alright?"

"Yes," I finally speak in hopes that it means she will leave. "Thank you." I smile too.

"Lovely, darling. Well I'll be just on the east wing if you need anything. Go ahead and get yourself settled."

She's gone and I can't decide which was worse, the incessant chatter or the stifling silence.

Elle Pierson, Registrar of Greater Baltimore Medical Centre. I can do this.

**Tobias**

The morning starts out badly enough with the headache and then I almost choke on coffee so strong I wonder if they just poured the grounds into boiling water. Regardless, I'm up and dressed before the sun has risen and going over my assignments for the day. First, a breakfast with the government that had remained in place here in Baltimore until a few weeks ago and later a large meeting, city wide, that I would be leading.

I walk into the room of men in black and white suits, my mind immediately suiting them into Candor. Yes, even after all of these years. I personally have stuck with my Dauntless clothing choices and I feel as out of place as a Dauntless would in a Candor meeting room. All of the men stop speaking as soon as I walk in, everyone taking their tiny plates of pastries and fruits and sitting down into some orderly like fashion. "Shall we begin?" I nod and so they do.

As they begin to drone on I imagine how Tris would yawn sleepily next to me, and steal a bite off of the muffin in front of me that I'd yet to touch or how she'd squeeze my knee to remind me to pay attention every time my thoughts shifted. Then she'd smile shyly at me before turning her attention back to what they were saying and volunteer a thought the rest of us were too stupid to see. Then I'd point out all the weak spots to it, she'd get irritated, but in the end it'd all be solved.

"So does that sound good to you Mr. Eaton?"

"Yes, sir," I nod firmly. Hoping he has not suggested a massacre or city wide fashion show. I'd learned about those a few months earlier in a city called San Francisco. Whole experience was terrifying with far too many sequins.

I leave the meeting with roughly as much knowledge as I'd walked into it with. I spare a thought of concern that I have missed vital information. I don't manage to worry much about anything anymore though.

I arrive at my next appointment with uncertainty. Apparently Baltimore was the second largest city I had been to yet, only falling behind Chicago, and theoretically I would speaking to the whole city today. There's a large stretch of grass, deadened from the hot summer sun, where everyone is gathering, and makeshift stage built in the middle of it. The mass of people is a bit overwhelming to look out into, even before I've climbed the stage.

I look over at the water nearby. Surrounded by weathered decks where scattered boats have been docked. The Inner Harbour, they call it. It's quite a bit nicer than the kidney shaped metal statue that resided in Chicago. I imagine how it must have been on hot summer days, filled with different factions of people all comingling in the same space to enjoy the breeze off of the water and let their kids chase each other across the worn away sidewalks and abandoned streets.

I take the steps up to my station, head held high as I switch off the inner portion of myself that feels as though he is walking around with a bleeding wound of loss and turning on the part that was conditioned into a soldier, a Dauntless one at that.

"Hello," I say firmly into the microphone, my voice deep and reassuring. The eyes that look up at me range from large and frightened to narrowed with anger. I see young mothers clutching their babies as though they too will be taken. "I am here today to reassure you, as well as to enlighten you."

Someone shouts swear words from the back, calling me names I've been called many times in the past, although admittedly not as creatively combined as this individual has made it. "I am sorry," I start, clearing my throat. I do not use that word often. Sorry holds a new meaning after one lives with regret. "Sorry that you have been deceived for so long as well as having this truth thrust upon you in such an abrupt manner. I too, suffered this same revelation as you after living in the dark for much too long. I have been where you stand today."

My doctor has given me many tips on speech giving. Relate to the crowd, allow them to see your sympathy, and then be as honest as possible. "I know the terrifying thoughts you are having about your futures as well as your pasts. Today I want to offer you nothing more than the facts to help educate you on what is happening." I turn to take the remote, one to control the large monitor behind me that will allow me to provide images to accompany my words.

The crowd is relatively calm, silent in their fear as well as their eagerness to learn. I'm pleased I don't have to deal with any frantic types today. But then the gun shots go off just as I am turning back around and the chaos ensues. At first, as ridiculous as it sounds, I am so distracted with attempting to soothe the crowd of wailing infants and screaming women that I don't even realise I am the one who has been shot. It isn't until I press my hand to my shoulder and it comes away slick with blood that I feel the pain, and subsequently fall to the ground to the peace of unconsciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

**So sorry about the wait on this! School and work and such got in the way. Anyway, last time I updated it didn't seem to work quite right which is why I posted the chapter twice. Sorry about that. Here's the next one and I hope to have another posted tomorrow or Monday night. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!**

**Tris**

I'm in the middle of processing an old man's information for the procedure he just completed, a one stop session to quickly eradicate the cluster of cancerous cells he'd developed, when the announcement goes off on the overhead.

"Critical gunshot wound to OR." The woman's voice spreads throughout every crevice of the hospital, even though only the OR needs to know anything about it. The announcement rattles me though. Reminds me of the stories I've been told. _Wiped out by guns and fires and violence and nuclear weapons. No one left. No one but you. How are you here? _

The old man is smiling kindly and I try my best to smile back. I was focusing on something. I need to enter what procedure he received. Skin graft for a burn? No, no, wrong. Was he beaten? I can see him on the ground, blood pouring from his nose as a younger man stands over him, kicking him relentlessly in the face. "He's going to die!" I yell out desperately as I jump from my seat to defend him. Someone so old should not be treated so cruelly.

But he's only sitting there, staring quizzically at me. "Are you alright, miss?" he asks, his voice strained like someone who has done too much talking in his lifetime.

I need to dial her number, the one for the lady with the cracked pink lips and annoying nicknames, but suddenly I can't remember my name let alone her phone number. So instead I look at the old man and shake my head slowly, "No."

He stands up, wobbly and weak and like he might just die at any moment. But he comes over to me and takes me by the shoulders and sits me down in my chair again. That's right, two chairs and a desk with a computer and printer hidden underneath. "I'm sorry," I breathe out as he releases my shoulders once I'm sitting firmly in my seat.

"Quite alright," he says kindly. "Same thing used to happen to my wife. She always just needed someone to anchor her back here on earth."

I nod because it seems right and then he sits back down and waits patiently for me. I ask him three times why he was here today before I can finally process it and enter it in right and by the time he's left Pink Lips has called me four times because she saw I was behind so she's taking my patients and why don't I go ahead home.

I say I will but instead I just shut my office door and lay on the ground. I don't remember where my home is.

**Tobias**

I'm no stranger to pain, but I hardly welcome it warmly. As such, waking up proves to be an unpleasant experience as I go to move my left arm only to be crippled with agony. Damn hospital, shouldn't they at least put me on pain medication.

Harsh lights greet me as I open my eyes. My room is hardly even that, more like a square enclosure of curtains with a bed. There are noises all around me, crying infants and chatting adults as well as clicking heels and the beeping of machines. It's all disorienting, more information than I can take in all at once.

A nurse walks into the room with seemingly little interest in me. "Am I free to leave?" I ask as I pull myself into a sitting position and swing my legs over the side of the bed, all with moving my left arm as little as possible. It still hurts like a bitch though. I don't have any shirt on but that's hardly a concern right now. I'd just like to find my way back to my hotel room although I'm not sure how I'll do that either.

"Calm down there," she says and pats my good shoulder. "We haven't even bandaged it properly yet."

I sigh but allow her to do as she pleases. I try not be as angry as I probably come across but it doesn't really work. For someone working in personal relations I really ought to be a bit friendlier. In her defence her work is quick and clean and she shoots a dose of something that nearly eradicates my pain in after she's finished. "Now?" I ask again.

She smiles slightly and shakes her head slowly back and forth to herself as she writes something on a clipboard. "Take these as needed for pain, no more than two a day and don't drive."

"Thanks," I say shoving my feet in my shoes on the other side of the room and putting on my blood stained sweatshirt.

"Sorry, had to cut your T-shirt but the zip up was saved at least." I nod in acknowledgement, ready to walk out.

"Hold on," she stops me again, now my irritation is climbing a bit. "Stop by the discharge office on the way out, we'll need your information."

"Got it," I answer and turn to leave before anymore can be said. I follow the halls of the hectic hospital, a little astounded by the amount of people in here. In Dauntless the injured were frequent and many. Yet our care wards never looked even remotely like this. People are crammed in every open space, young, old, and everywhere in between. Frantic looking teenagers and weakened elderly litter every hall I turn down. I wonder just what is going on in this city that so many of its citizens have turned to the safety of the hospital.

I soon regret not waiting for directions to this office. Everything looks the same after a few turns. Only thing that changes are the people. Soon they all blend from one face to the next as well. I'm about to leave without doing whatever I was meant to when I find myself directly in front of a very large sign that reads "Discharge Office."

Well, guess the aimless wandering worked. The door's shut so I knock three times, and wait…and wait. After at least a minute of waiting I'm about ready to turn and leave again, already turning to search for the exit, when I hear the door swing open.

"Yes?" I hear the voice behind me say. She sounds familiar, soft, but with an edge, and a hint of hesitancy.

I turn, almost knocking myself off balance and reaching out with my left arm without thinking to grab the door frame. I let out a grunt of pain in doing so and squeeze my eyes shut. "Shit," I say as I right myself and try to relax my muscle back to the near painless state it was in moments ago. "Sorry," I start. "I was just caught off…guard." I whisper as my eyes finally land on the girl's face. "Tris."


	4. Chapter 4

**Tobias**

"Excuse me?" she asks, cocking her head to the side and crinkling her nose in confusion.

"Tris," I say again, my eyes sweeping her up and down. It must be her. It has to be her. She's still short, her hair is grown though and curls slightly at the end, but it's still the colour of honey. Her blue eyes are just as piercing, although the way she looked at me was quite different now.

"My name is Elle," she says, her voice shaking as she takes a step back from me. "Can I…Can I help you, sir?"

She looks so scared, uncertain. I never remember Tris looking properly scared before, not like now. Even with all of her near death experiences and watching her parents die and getting shot she never looked scared, not like this. She clasps her hands in front of her and I watch her knuckles turn white from squeezing them. The realisation comes that she is not just afraid, but afraid of me and the way I am watching her and the way my entire body is leaning into her, just as I used to lean down so my lips could reach hers half way in a kiss. I straighten myself, feel a twinge of pain and clear my throat.

"I'm sorry," I tell her, now my own voice is filled with confusion. "You look…strikingly similar to someone." Tris is dead. Tris died three and half years ago. Tris sacrificed herself to save her brother. I will never see Tris again. This girl is not Tris. But damn if I hadn't seen her dead body, if I hadn't spread her ashes along the grounds of Chicago, I might not believe it. Even so…how? "I need to be discharged?"

"Oh," she says with a flat voice and looks behind her. The office is dark, not even the illumination of a computer light exists. "I uh, just…just give me a second," she mutters, flipping on the light switch and sitting behind the computer. I stand for a moment too long before realising I should sit across from her.

She flips a switch, probably to turn her computer on, and then sits in front of me, offering me an awkward smile. I try to smile back, and I think I might succeed because her entire face brightens at my attempt. Almost as though she's just relieved she isn't as right about my scary demeanour as she had originally perceived me.

"Can I ask you a question?" I say and she looks at me quizzically.

"Yes," she answers and meets my gaze for a second before darting her eyes back to the desk in front of her. Guess she's still terrified. 

"Do you…this is going to sound odd, do you have a tattoo?" I can't help myself. I can't accept that this girl, this…spitting image of Tris, is actually not her but instead a projection of my mind, most likely aided by pain medication and blood loss. "On your collarbone, right side." I gesture to the spot on my own chest.

"I don't, no." She shakes her head slowly and I actually see her lift the side of her shirt and check. "No," she says again, more certain.

I nod and try to contain my disappointment. The loss hits me again, harshly and loudly. It is not a dulled reminder of my sudden goodbye but hits me square in the chest, like another bullet piercing through me.

"Are you okay?" she asks kindly reaching out a hand like she might heal me with a touch. I regain composure, pushing Tris to the back of my mind and trying to reimagine the girl in front of me, push past the fogginess that consumes my head enough to trick it into seeing her image. Trying to replace the parts that were undeniably _Tris _with the actual face of the girl in front of me. I want to rub my eyes and pinch myself to take away this painful blessing of seeing her face again.

"Yeah," I say, nodding. "Sorry."

I'm about to offer an explanation, try and prove to the girl I am not as angry and creepy as I currently seem, not that I'm sure why it matters, but she cuts me off and prevents me from saying anything. "Name?" she asks, her voice taking on the note of business.

"Tobias," I answer and then search her eyes for a hint of recognition. Instead she just types.

"Last name?"

"Eaton," I grimace as I say it but she neither notices nor comments. I am a stranger to her. Of course I am. We are strangers. We have never met before. She's not Tris.

"Date of birth?" It carries on quite like this for some time. She asks me more questions than I could have ever thought relevant.

"Where are you from?" I ask when she stops long enough for me to speak at all again. She had been typing swiftly a moment before but now she freezes, her fingers ceasing all movement. "Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude or anything."

"No, no it's okay." She clears her throat and lifts her head to look at me. It's practised, forced, almost as though her entire set of social skills have been rehearsed, including how to answer questions. "I'm told I'm from an area called Washington DC. It's not far from here."

"You're told?" I question, venturing to ask another question. I can't remember the last time I've engaged in a conversation like this with someone I haven't already known for years. I don't make friends. I don't care about strangers. She's not a stranger.

"Well I, um, I lost my memory when the wars started a couple years back. Serum was released in my portion of the city and it wiped everything I knew. So when I woke up I didn't really know…anything?" She says the last bit almost as though she's looking for confirmation from me.

"Nothing?" I ask, desperate for confirmation. It's stupid, I know that. But I also know all of the lies and deceit and that my entire life was really some sort of experiment up until not so long ago and what's to stop them from running more experiments? What's to stop them from anything they think to do that might benefit them? I put little faith in the Bureau and other institutions like it. I doubt very little is past the human race from doing at this point. "Like no memories at all?"

"No, it was all a blank."

I think of Peter, the angry, hateful boy who has grown into a caring and kind man. He's no longer even the semblance of person he once was and holds no memories of that person ever having existed. Tris. "How old are you?"

"Uh, twenty?" At first she says it like a question and then she says again, "Twenty. I am twenty years old."

"Tris," it's a breath of hope, an exhale escaping from the deepest cavities of my chest that mourn for her daily still.

"Who?" she asks, this time not correcting me but apparently just attempting to understand why I keep saying this girl's name.

"She-" I am all prepared to tell her. She was the girl I loved more than anything else in the world. She was my reason for living. She was dead. But now I think she might be you. But before I can say all that, and thankfully so perhaps, heels click their way into the office and we both turn to see a lady standing in the doorway.

"Eleanor, I thought you left hours ago!" she exclaims, almost looking distraught. "Dear, I heard you had some problems, that's perfectly okay you know. It's okay to go home."

"I was going to but-"

"No, no don't you worry about a thing. I'm well aware of your mental condition," as she says this Tris' face lights up with red as she looks away from the lady, ashamed and embarrassed. "I don't want you feeling like you have to stay if you think you may have a er, breakdown. When you have problems like that you just tell me you need to go home and go right on home."

"Yes," she says quietly, refusing to meet anyone's eyes.

"You don't look well," the lady starts again, eyeing Tris like an injured puppy. "I'm off now anyway. I'll walk you home darling."

"No!" she says, a little too frantically. It's the first time I've seen her respond so urgently. "I just…I don't need anyone to walk me home."

"Don't be silly dear, I couldn't in good conscious let you walk home on your own." She drops her voices a few octaves and leans closer to Tris, almost like she intends to keep me from hearing but failing miserably. "After all, I've read your report. I wouldn't want you to forget your way home."

"I-I'm fine."

"I can't possibly let you-"

"I was actually going to walk Tr-Elle home," I say, wanting to save this girl, Tris or not, from having to go anywhere with this insufferable woman. And what was with her lips?

"Oh, do you know the way?" she asks. "Sometimes Eleanor can't quite remember things and I would-"

"I'm her neighbour," I say roughly, cutting her off. I could hardly let her keep embarrassing Tris like this. She now sat in her chair with her eyes downcast and cheeks a bright red.

"Oh well still I could-"

"We're good," I assure her and take the control as Tris still just sits in her chair. "Ready Elle?" I stand, wincing slightly from my shoulder, and go to grab her coat that hangs on a hook near the door.

She stands without another word and puts on the coat I hold out to her. Elle, I think, watching her pull her hair out and have it fall against her back. Tris, comes to the forefront of my mind though. How could it be anyone else? Just as the evil Peter could become kind, perhaps the fearless Tris could become timid.

I follow her toward the exit, grateful that I didn't have to wander through the mobs of people myself to search for it. "Thank you," she finally says, with an air of relief.

"No problem," I say. "She seems awful, whoever she is."

"She is," Tris nods with a groan. "You don't really have to walk me home though. I assure you I'm not as disabled as Pink Lipstick makes me sound."

"Pink Lipstick?" I ask with a slight laugh.

"Well did you see her?" she turns to look at me in utter seriousness but then she too laughs and somehow it is me and Tris walking away from this foreign hospital into an even more foreign city laughing about some lady neither of us even knows the real name to. It's surreal.

"I don't mind walking you home, honest," I say with a shrug of my good shoulder, like it wouldn't make a difference either way. But I am now thinking my existence may be resting on this moment far more than I originally knew. "If it's alright with you." I remember her shrinking fear earlier.

"I guess that's fine." She sounds uncertain but it's good enough for me anyway. "I do know the way though."

"That's good 'cause I don't." We both laugh again, albeit slightly more awkward.

"So, Tris?" she says again and I breathe a sharp intake of air.

I look over at her again now, watching how she walks and the way her eyes watch the path in front of her, how her hands swing freely by her side. Did Tris walk so freely? I remember her gait being tight and controlled, more soldier like. At least when walking. When she ran her arms pumped by her side as her legs carried her quickly along a train, moving so quickly she was practically a blur. "Tris is, was, a girl I knew."

"Girlfriend?" she asks and then bites her lip, like she shouldn't of.

"Yeah, she was," I answer easily. I think about saying more. Telling her how Tris was allegedly dead, or at least I had believed she was until she swung open her office door an hour or so ago. I want to tell her about Dauntless and Abnegation, about Four and maybe even Marcus and Evelyn. I wanted to teach this Tris about me all over again.

"Do I look like her or something?"

"Startlingly so," I answer, looking again. I didn't _feel_ crazy but maybe…

"Well I'm not, promise." She speaks this with certainty. Of course the one thing she knows for sure is the same thing I'm questioning.

"If you say so." Maybe I should call my doctor when I get back to the hotel.

**Tris**

Talking to Tobias is quite possibly the easiest conversation I can ever recall having. It was awkward and a bit strange, especially when he kept calling me Tris earlier and staring at me as though he was about to either kill me or kiss me, I couldn't tell. But after we've begun walking home I feel like I can breathe again. Perhaps it's the fresh air and being out of the crammed hospital or maybe just from the relief of not having Pink Lips walking me home.

We lapse into silence after I declare myself as 100% not this Tris girl and I can feel his eyes shift over to my every few minutes. I try not to dwell on it though and walk as normal. I'm relieved to discover that I recognise the buildings and landscapes around me which assures me I can indeed find my way home. My assurance I'd displayed earlier was a bit of a show and I'm glad I won't have to lie again about it.

"So is the hospital always like…that?" he asks in form of making polite conversation. Once again I can feel his eyes on me. How does he walk without looking where he's going for so long?

"I wouldn't really know, to be honest," I say with a shrug. "Today was my first day." I think about the anxiety of sitting alone in that room and the people I talked to. I think of the old man having to ground me back to Earth with his reassuring hands anchoring me back to reality. I remember Pink Lips sending me home just moments ago with concern I wouldn't even be able to find my own apartment. "And quite possibly my last."

I groan as I realise how likely that actually is. Who wants to keep someone that they constantly have to babysit? "Why do you say that?"

I lead him down my street and scan the uniform brick buildings around us. This part was the hardest because they all looked the same. Instead of looking at all of them and feeling the overwhelming anxiety of trying to determine one from another I look to the ground. My apartment building had a large crack than started on this side of the road and travelled all the way across to the other side. Like an earthquake and tried to split this road in two.

"It wasn't exactly a spectacular first day." I admit as I swallow roughly and twist my hands together. "And they only hired me in the first place because they had to."

He's silent for so long after that I assume he just agrees they should probably fire me and I see the start of the crack so I'm all prepared to offer a goodbye and go lie in the dark. "Well, if they really did _have_ to hire you as you say then surely they won't just fire you after one day. No one ever does great on their first day."

His reassurance is nice enough that I smile at him, appreciative of the kindness. Kindness was often given to me, how can someone not be kind to the girl with no memory that may fall into a breakdown at any moment? It was pitying though, kindness only given to me because they felt so bad over poor little Eleanor. "Thank you, I hope you're right."

"I'm sure I am." And he smiles back so wide that I can't help but smile wider myself. His entire face transformed as ghosts vanished from his eyes and tensions fell from his forehead. It was oddly beautiful. Especially on someone who otherwise looked so intimidating.

I gesture to the building behind me. "Well this is where I live so…" I fade and take a few steps toward the building. I didn't really know how to best say goodbye. "Thank you again for walking me."

"My pleasure." He nods toward me, far more serious than he was a moment ago and I turn once and for all to walk through the doorway and into the foyer. "Elle!" he calls out right before my hand touches the door handle.

I turn and stare watching him run his hand up through his short, buzz cut hair, almost as though he were nervous. "Best of luck with everything," and he nods and turns away. But not before I watch the shadow of pain pass over his face.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello again! Thanks once more for the kind reviews. Please continue them as I like to gauge how people are feeling in terms of the story.**

**I did receive one last chapter asking me to clarify the whole Elle/Tris situation. The answer to that is that Elle and Tris are 100% the same person. Only Tris has lost all of her memories entirely and so everything she knows about herself and her past have been taught to her. So when she says she is not Tris she just doesn't know any better because in her mind she truly isn't. I hope that clarifies everything!**

**Tris**

The walk up the four flights of stairs leaves me winded as usual and I'm grateful when my key slides easily into the lock on the door. Last week I'd accidentally tried to enter someone else's apartment. I considered it rather understandable with the uniformity of everything, the man living there however was not quite so accepting of the matter.

I open the door just wide enough to slide my body through and then shut it firmly behind me. Turning both of the locks and leaning back against it. Never had I expected that a simple job would be so tiring, or a simple conversation for that matter. The darkness and emptiness of my apartment is a warm welcome.

Despite having moved in here officially a few weeks ago I still hadn't filled it with much of anything aside from some towels and plates. The fridge and light fixtures came with the place and although a bed would surely be more preferable than the floor…well I was still more comfortable than I'd been on my cot in the hospital for the last three years.

I make my way to the darkest corner of the apartment. It was where I most preferred to sleep. It was comforting in the same way as the darkness that had eventually filled my office earlier today.

In the hospital I once shared a room with a girl who was petrified of the dark and insisted on having a light on at all times, including at night. The light frightened me; left me feeling exposed and like the entire world could see my every movement. Light made you an easier target. I preferred having the ability to hide away.

Sitting with my back against the wall I pull my knees up to my chest and bury my face into them. I close my eyes tightly and try to block out all other thoughts. Instead I do the same as every other day and try my best to focus on memories. They don't exist, not for me, but I do my best to conjure anything I can. In the hospital they suggested I work on recalling simple things, like what I ate for breakfast or what colour shirt my roommate was wearing. They said rehearsing those simple details would later train my brain to remember things all on its own with far less effort.

Although they said my past memories were never coming back, the ones from before the war, I held out hope. I spent most of my energy on these sessions not trying to recollect shirt colours and meals, but trying to reminisce how it felt to have the strong arms of a father to lift you in the air or the soft kiss on the cheek by a mother. I tried saying the name of where I was from and the name of my deceased brother and parents. I tried smelling the scents that I was told were my favourite foods as a child. I tried and tried and tried, but all I could ever feel, almost like I knew it in a portion of myself that didn't even really belong to my brain, was one simple thought over and over. This isn't real.

**Tobias**

Walking away from…whoever that girl may be, was quite possibly ranked as one of the hardest things I've ever done. Not because I truly believed she could be Tris, which was crazy thinking. In fact that was the sort of crazy thinking that could land me back in regular meetings with the doctor my mother insisted I see. It was the sort of crazy where everyone looks at you sadly and doctors talk in hushed voices about medications and institutions. I didn't need any more of that sort of crazy in my life.

Walking away from her was hard because I almost couldn't help believing that this was almost a second chance of sorts. Never had I believed in any form of higher power, but perhaps the forces of the universe were piecing together this girl with great care to detail and precision to offer her to me in repentance for what had been so unfairly taken from me before. Like maybe I could be happy again and the fact that all the random events that had to occur in order for me to meet this girl was a sign. One from Tris saying, ' Go ahead, be happy with someone else.'

But I didn't want to be happy with anyone else. I cringed away from happiness and rejected it. Happiness was found in memories or in the small moments with my friends that reminded me of the best parts of Before. Now I did not live in search of happiness or even contentment. Instead I lived for survival, and for the protection of others. Not in the form of war as I'd once participated in, but now in the aspiration of peace and doing what I could to comfort the broken. 

So it was stupid to even think of anything else. It was beyond foolish to walk and talk with this girl called Elle and think of what else life might really have to offer me.

Unless…

No, no. I had to remind myself that there was no unless, no maybe. This girl is not, could not be, Tris. It was beyond impossible, outside of the realms of reason. Why would anyone fake the death of her? Why would she not have been shot by a man who was watching her destroy his life's work on GP's as well as all of his memories?

Tris was dead.

People looked similar. My mind had shifter the idea of how she looks. This girl was a simple doppelgänger of sorts and my memories were twisting her into someone who was identical to the one I dreamed of every night and longed for every day.

But Elle was not Tris. Tris was not alive and Elle was. They were two separate people.

Unless.

**Tris**

Eventually the darkest corner of my apartment has become lit from the light streaming through the windows. It's amazing how far light can travel when there are no physical objects to stop its path.

It's enough to wake me from the restless doze I'd been in and out of for most of the night. My body curled on the hardwood floor of the corner with my knees still pulled tight to my chest but my head resting underneath of my now numb arm. I open and close my mouth a few times as I sit up, trying to rid it of the cotton filled feeling it has currently.

Every muscle in my back and shoulder feels like it has been pulled to tight all night long and they quiver from the sensation of stretching and relaxing as I sit up and roll my neck back and forth.

Standing up my legs shake for a second and the room spins as my body acclimates to the change of position. I walk into the kitchen, which was really just tiled floor instead of hardwood, with a fridge, stove, some cabinets, and counter tops. I avoided going out for the most part, including the stores, hence my lack of furniture, which also leads to quite a lack of food. I make do though, finding some crackers and a tea bag.

I brush my hair and teeth and discard my clothes in a pile on the floor of my empty bedroom, rooting through a box for something clean to wear to work. I curse the time and my lateness and settle on the least wrinkled shirt that looks somewhat professional. All of my clothes had been donated to me during my time in the hospital anyway. Not like I had much to choose from.

I shove my feet haphazardly into my shoes and tie my hair up as I walk down the four flights of stairs. The sun streaming outside burns my eyes as I walk out the door and walk along the sidewalk.

The faces that pass me smile and nod, little toddlers run past me unsteadily and a dog comes up to me, tongue lolling out of its mouth as he pants happily. I pat his head once without acknowledging his owner and carry on. I was somewhat fascinated by the fact that only a few weeks back all of these people had learnt that their entire life was essentially a lie. I remember how it felt hearing the doctors explain the whole situation to me. I couldn't imagine hearing such news when it so directly relates to my life. How angry must they be? How confused are they from the unravelling of their lives? And yet, they all seemed to be going on with their days as normal. At least outside.

Outside the toddlers still toddled and the dogs still wagged their tails. But the hospital halls were filled with the ones who were injured in the stampedes of angry crowds or the mentally unstable. Some were even gunshot victims, like Tobias was. People were scared because their way of life was now being replaced. Inside their homes people were ranting and raving and some were probably crying, scared of what this entailed for the rest of their lives. People were scared. I knew what that was like.

I hear bits of conversation as I walk by, people discussing the shooting yesterday and how they felt at the idea of factions being split. I lived in what was primarily an Erudite complex I was told, which was the faction for the intelligent. I found it ironic that they put someone who had as much knowledge as a child in an area built for those whose knowledge knew no boundaries.

Apparently before I'd gotten here there were extreme circumstances playing out that led authorities to end the whole faction idea. I had read up on it some in the library where I'd been staying but I was still quite intrigued to learn more of how it all worked. Before being sent here to try and "acclimate to a normal, independent lifestyle" it had been briefly explained to me but I wondered what the experience was like. Having one chance to decide what would be most valued to you for the rest of your life. It all sounded a bit daunting to me.

Some days I pretend I'm Dauntless and that I live with no fear. I know I'm the exact opposite. After all, I'm afraid of conversations and stores and this stupid job I have to work. But sometimes if I pretend well enough, I convince myself I'm Dauntless because I stop being afraid enough to face it all.

I briefly wonder if Tobias knows anything of factions, if he ever belonged to one or had a similar situation occur. I bet he would be Dauntless. All dark and tall and strong as he was. What did he have to fear?

Surely far less than me as I take a deep breath and walk into the towering building of the hospital.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey, guys. Sorry for the wait on this and the obvious filler content these chapters are. I'm working to something here though, promise. Please spare a minute to let me know your thoughts. I really appreciate it. Also, if anyone has any story recs I would love to hear them! I haven't really delved too far into the fanfic for Divergent yet so anyone who has suggestions, even if it is your own story, leave it in the reviews!**

**In other news I want to be honest and say I am not sure how well I'll be able to continue this at all. Received some news today regarding my dad's health and it was none too good. So, depending on his test results tomorrow and my own life changes in response to those results this story may either cease to be or continue on. I hope to not have to stop but I may take it down for a short while until I am able to write it properly. Don't worry, I promise to at least post before doing anything. Good thoughts and prayers for my dad please. Thank you everyone!**

**Tobias**

"We think you should come back home now," the voice on the other end of the line says. I cradle the phone between my good shoulder and ear to listen as I stir the odd microwavable macaroni and cheese I found at the local grocery store. The cheese I pour out is a bright orange powder that looks far from actual food.

Agreement is on the tip of my tongue as I ponder my likelihood of living through this supposed dinner. A brief flash of an unanswered question changes my mind though. "I think there's more to be done here, plenty more."

"I agree, Tobias. But you've been injured. I think it's important we get you home." Perhaps I should appreciate the concern for my well-being that my superior has. It was more than I had for myself after all.

In fact, it seemed a bit much. I was hardly incapacitated and it's not like many individuals were jumping at the opportunity to go running across the country to an angry mob. "Did Evelyn put you up to this?"

The sigh on the other end of the phone answers the question for me.

"Listen, someone has to be here. I've already got my feet wet, might as well see what else I can do." I imagine my mother at home, hearing news of me being shot and pacing my apartment nervously. She can fend for herself. I don't doubt her resilience.

"It seems logical, yes, but your mother is even more persuasive than you, believe it or not." I believe it entirely.

I also believe that I am more desperate. "No, there are far too many things that need to be resolved." Far too many questions still needing to be answered. "What sort of leader would I be if I just turned my back on a whole city from one incident?"

"One keeping me alive."

Perhaps my laugh right then was not appreciated. "Listen, leave Evelyn to me. Just don't pull me out of here until we get some things sorted out." At least until I sort out delusion from reality.

His silent contemplation is somehow very loud. "Fine, but any more incidents like yesterday and you're on the first flight home."

"Deal."

**Tris**

Perhaps one would consider the second day of work to go smoother. Such a person would be very wrong. I settled into my office and booted everything up, first having the trouble of remembering my password to log into the system and then struggling to recall how to get to the screens I need. What an incompetent employee.

Then with my first patient I made a mistake in forgetting to ask him his name.

With the second I made the mistake of asking the outdated question of "Which faction do you reside in?" Security had to be called as I sat on the receiving end of this individual's feelings of rage of the current lack of factions to call your own.

By the twentieth I was feeling more confident, bored even as I sat and waited for another person to show up to my office. I reclined in my seat, enjoying the feeling of tension sinking away as I relaxed. Everything seemed a little less scary as I changed position and I went one step further, closing my eyes to truly calm myself down. The darkness caused my heart rate to fall to an appropriate level and my breathing to slow. It left me with a sense of accomplishment for whatever reason.

The intention had been for a few moments of serenity. Next thing I know I am jumping to a knock on my open door. I'd fallen asleep.

"Sorry, sorry," I say as I wipe the side of my face in anticipation of potential drool and smooth my hair down to calm whatever damage I may have managed to do in my sleep. "I didn't mean-" I pause midsentence, somewhere between relieved and concerned at the familiar face I see. "You're back again?"

He laughs easily at the incredulity in my voice. "Not as a patient this time."

"Oh," I manage to come up with, feeling foolish for multiple reasons. I clear my throat and debate whether I should sit down or continue standing here.

He smiles easily and sits across from me. I sit too. "I was going to wait for you outside your house this morning, actually, but I thought that would be pretty creepy."

I nod slowly in agreement. Creepy would be an understatement. I feel exposed like I did yesterday and cross my arms over my chest, trying to hide part of myself.

As though he notes my unease he imitates my posture, closing himself off instead of his original, open and relaxed position. He sits with the practise of a soldier now. "It looks like I'm going to be stuck here for a while."

I consider saying 'oh' again but think better of it. "Why?" I ask instead.

"Enraged citizens and mass confusion mainly," he says with a shrug. "But I was thinking…" he fades out and his eyes stare into mine, like they're searching. I wonder if he's looking for this Tris girl again. He must be greatly disappointed.

"Yes?" I encourage dryly. Being his tour guide was at the bottom of my list of priorities. I still barely even knew my own way around this god forsaken city.

My voice removes his stare from me and he looks away, closing his eyes for a minute with a pained expression. Clearly disappointed. "Would you like to…do something some time?"

I stare now. Were invitations out always supposed to be so vague? "Uh, like what?"

He laughs nervously and rubs a hand along the back of his neck. "I hadn't gotten that far."

I think about my very empty fridge and even emptier apartment building. Then I think of the concept of a friend. One who wouldn't kill themselves or, even worse, try to kill me in the middle of the night. Perhaps he could be a friend who wouldn't either get better or worse and just lead to the inevitable. Leaving. "I need to go grocery shopping," I say dumbly.

He looks confused as he meets my eyes again. The same blank look I saw in so many faces of the people I passed by on the streets every day. "Yeah, okay. What time do you get off?"

I glance at the clock, feeling stupid as I remember the position he'd found me in. How long had I been asleep for? "Pink Lips says it slows down around three so, I can leave then."

He nods and stands, tall and big much like before. I want to shrink away from him but instead I stand as well and try to make myself feel as big as he looks. "At three then."

He leaves and I fall back into my chair, tension and all once again present.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello everyone! Thank you all for your kind thoughts and comments. Still not entirely sure what's going on with my dad but we do know that it's cancer. Won't know the severity of it for a few days still so continue with your good thoughts and prayers please!**

**I really do want to try and keep this story going so at least for the next few days I am going to try and keep at it the best I can. Please let me know what you think, we're starting to move into some more of the real story/interaction with Tris and Tobias and I'm kind of excited about it. Thanks again!**

**Tobias**

After leaving the hospital I knew that I should have gone and done something productive. Surely there was some meeting to be had or public announcement to be made, through a screen this time perhaps though. Instead I found myself wandering about the city, mildly entranced by the cool breeze blowing off of the sky blue water.

Walking around that area I find it clustered with people drawn in by the same harmonious effects of nature. I find many what I assume to Amity's around this section, much like the group I knew at home they remained calm in this time of adversity. I watched curiously the children who were scattered along as well, wondering why they weren't in school. One Abnegation boy handed his jump rope to the Erudite girl beside him and he then sat on the ground with nothing to do but watch her play with his toy. I remembered those days. When you gave and gave all you had for nothing in return, almost as though you just weren't anything.

With a shake of my head and squaring my shoulders I continue moving forward, blocking thoughts of a damned childhood out of my head. Instead I watch the sun that fell directly overhead, casting all of the inhabitants in revealing sunlight. My feet carried me further, away from the people who still looked so lost but were trying to piece their lives together.

A flash of caramel coloured hair creeps into the corner of my vision, a young girl running after a group of her friends and my mind has already called to the forefront the very person such things remind me of. I saw Tris in everyone, Elle was just exceptionally so, right? Because she had the honey hair and the blue eyes and the endearing short stature. These familiar physical traits composed a rough draft of who Tris truly was. Tris was not who she was because she was short or because she crossed her arms in front of her chest whenever she was trying not to be afraid. Tris was who she was because of the determination of her choices and the dauntless actions she took every day. She was formed from the tragedies she lived through and the deep tenacious tendencies that rested in her. I didn't fall in love with Tris because of how she bites her lip when she's not sure what to say or how she only let her fall loose when she's finished with her day.

So no, I decide once and for all. Elle was not Tris and could never be. Because Tris was so much more than any similarities my mind could combine together. She was a puzzle so intricately put together that I still could not make sense of her. No one could imitate that and no one ever could replace it.

At least, that's what I tell myself before I watch her walking out the front door and towards me. It's how I feel until she quietly greets me with a, "hello," and a timid smile. All those thoughts were crystal clear to me until I look her in the eyes and find myself smiling back, wider than I had since I'd last been with her, and ask her if she'd like to lead the way. There were no doubts in my mind until she crosses her arms and bites her lip and I offer to take her to the store I found earlier today instead and she visibly relaxes. I'm so sure this girl is not Tris until I am even more positive that she is.

**Tris**

We set off walking and I'm grateful that he didn't have me show him to the store nearest where I live. It wasn't that I was constantly incapable of finding my way around places but the stress of this odd get together coupled with a brand new, giant city posed quite a challenge in comparison to the hospital in DC who's landscape I had mastered. "So do you do this often?" I ask, not sure if I was inquiring about taking a random girl to a grocery store or come to strange cities and get shot. I might have been equally interested in his answer to both.

"Yeah, actually," he replies and I make the conclusion that he's answering about travelling. "This is probably the last one for a while though."

I nod, remembering what I had learnt in the hospital. "Almost all of the other cities discarded the outdated idea of factions two years ago now, didn't they?"

We enter a heavily populated area, filled with office buildings and a giant court house. Candor then. It's almost humorous, the way one way can look so uniform until you cross to the next and everything changes. From the clothes they are wearing to the way they walk and even the cadences and volumes of their voices. You wouldn't think a few square miles could contain an entire different way of living from another area just down the street; but you'd be wrong.

"Yeah," Tobias says, forcing my eyes away from the surrounding area and to pay attention to our conversation again. "Mine was the first, actually."

"Chicago, right?" The downfall of the longest standing factions had happened three and a half years prior due to the leader of Erudite headquarters, Jeanine Matthews, trying to overthrow the Abnegation leaders of the city, most notably Marcus Eaton who she had claimed to be relatively evil.

"That's the place," he agrees and I can't tell if his voice is sad or not. What must it be like, I think for the millionth time, to have your whole life be a semblance of a lie? "I was Dauntless," he offers and I can't help but smile. I called that one.

"Do you miss it?" I ask before I can consider whether I should or not. It seemed like a fair enough question.

He nods slowly, slightly. "Yes and no. By the time I had joined the whole faction had started turning toward the completely wrong ideals and I kind of worry where it would have gone if someone hadn't of stopped it when they did." Sad, I think. Certainly he looks sad now. "But there was good stuff about it too, the unity and comradery and the…people. There was a lot of good stuff about it, actually."

I try to think about it how he talks about it. He makes it sound like something I'd long for; something that now I know of a world that once existed such as that I can't help but want it. He makes it sound like home. "It sounds nice. The good stuff at least."

He rubs a hand along his face then, like he's trying to wipe off the memories of it and leave only the new experiences. "Gotta move on though. Like you said, the faction thing is pretty outdated."

"I like to think I'd be Dauntless," I tell him because even though I never was a part of a faction, not that I remember at least, I still wonder how I would have fit in in a world such as that. "But I probably would fit in best at Abnegation."

He smiles at me then, just as widely as he did when I walked out to him from the hospital. "No," he says and he shakes his head and, was that a laugh? "You'd be a brilliant Dauntless."

Confused I almost stop walking, is he making fun of me or is he serious? Surely he was making fun of me. I can't even walk upstairs. I laugh slightly as well, trying to play it off as a joke. "Just like you belong in Amity."

"Oh god," he says with his nose turned in disgust. "I spent a week there once and it was seven days too many."

The summer sun is relentless until finally we reach the store of stands. Meat sits on ice and tents drape over all of the food to keep the hot sun from roasting them before they could even be bought. It's a relatively busy day and I watch as the Amity unload trucks behind them as another exchanges money with an Erudite buying dinner for her family. I'm about to ask if everyone took so long to acclimate and ditch the old custom of factions or if Baltimore was just particularly relentless on the matter. But he cuts me off.

"So what do you need?" he asks and I think of my cupboards and fridge back home and how very empty they are.

"Not a lot," I assure him, suddenly feeling repentant for dragging him out to this silly chore. When he asked to do something surely he did not have grocery shopping in mind.

"Take your time," he says with a shrug and leads the way into the maze of stands. I follow gratefully and mimic his movements. Grabbing fruits and placing them in bags and watch as he checks each one individually. Apples he checked for bruises and avocadoes he squeezed and I nearly laughed as I watched him knock on a watermelon as he held his ear up to it.

"Anyone home?" I ask and he rolls his eyes as he lifts it into his arms.

"You want this one."

I shrug, suddenly my shame turning to the utmost appreciation to finally have someone show me how to do all of this nonsense. By the time we're leaving we have bags filled enough to feed me for at least two weeks. "Thanks," I say shyly as we start the long walk back. Surely he had figured out that I didn't really know what to do.

"No problem. A lot of Dauntless born had issues with figuring it all out too, since they used to just eat in a giant mess hall most of the time." He smiles again, shifting the watermelon from one arm to the other. "See? You really do belong there."


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello! Sorry for such a long wait. Between my dad and the end of my college semester things have been crazy. Hopefully after my final in a couple of weeks I can update more regularly. Here's this for now though and I'll hopefully post again soon! Let me know what you think.**

**Tris**

Turning the corner to my street is a blessed relief. My arms are exhausted just from caring the few bags and I feel relatively out of breath just from keeping up with Tobias's pace. I'm determined not to say anything as we continue but am grateful he stopped conversing as I don't think I very well could right now. He doesn't seem to notice my struggle, thankfully and I'm certainly not about to say anything.

So arriving at the door to my apartment complex feels like an accomplishment and now I've gotten my reward. "I can take everything in," I say as I go to open the door. I glance at all of the stuff he's carried, at least three times as much I have, along with a watermelon in the crook of his arm, and wonder how I'll ever manage to get it all in.

He shakes his head. "I don't mind," he says and I want to argue further for the pure sake of not having him in my barren home.

"If you're sure…" is all I mutter instead and start the trek up the stairs before him so I can set the pace this time. I'm sure it's slow, embarrassingly slow to what he's used to, but much needed. I think of a day when I could jog right up these stairs as though it is no problem at all. I think of the freedom it must offer to have your feet beat hard upon the pavement and carry you faster and faster, must be nice to just keep running without your lungs burning or muscles aching for a rest. Perhaps there will be a day where I can I at least carry home groceries without such difficulty.

"Sorry," I say in way of apology for our agonisingly slow pace once we reach the top. I hadn't wanted to acknowledge my pathetic speed but it seemed even more embarrassing to say nothing at all.

"No problem," he says again and I wonder if he thinks I'm referencing how long it took to get up here or the fact that he had to come up at all. "Here let me help." He then takes the several bags from my hands and manages to add them to the bunch he already carries.

I smile in gratitude as I pull out my key and unlock the door for us and hold the door open wide for him to walk through with all of the groceries. I try not to bite my lip in my nervousness as he walks in and sees the utterly empty living space.

"Counter okay?" is he all he says though.

I'm so taken aback that it takes me a moment to answer and he just kind of goes over and starts setting down anyway. "Y-yeah," I say and rush over in case I can offer help. I can't.

He goes and opens the refrigerator, which is almost as empty as my apartment itself. I think of earlier and how I'd assured him I didn't need much at the market and how we ended up buying enough to feed a family of four anyway. He must know I was lying earlier as he looks in my fridge. Still he says nothing as he begins filling it with all of the fresh fruits and vegetables and even assorted meats we'd gotten.

All I can do is move the things that don't need be kept cold from one counter top to the next.

"We can just put these in a bowl on the counter," Tobias says as he holds up a bag filled with oranges.

"I don't…have one," I say, suddenly aware of how little I really did have and how strange it must seem.

He just nods and instead just places the bag on the counter next to the bananas. "Well that works just as well."

I smile in gratitude. "Thanks again," I say.

He waves my thanks off as though it is undue. "It was my offer," he reminds me.

Neither of us is sure of what to say next though. It's hardly as though I can invite him to sit down. Not unless he'd like to settle himself on the living room floor that is. I can hardly just kick him out but he's not taking the initiative to leave himself. I didn't know what you were supposed to do in this situation. I'd never had someone in my house before, let alone someone who is practically a stranger. Why don't they teach these sort of things in the hospital? Where were the books for social encounters?

"So do you know how to cook any of this stuff?" he asks and pulls himself right up onto one of my counter tops to sit.

I gape, just for a second. "Uh, a little bit yeah," I tell him. "The long term patients at the hospital used to switch off for kitchen duty." I add and he just stares at me. I look away because it makes me feel uncomfortable again. I didn't want to feel that way around him. "Do you cook?"

He sits up straighter and then laughs. "Not well," he says with a smile not yet falling from his lips.

"I could…make you something?" I offer, more as a question than anything else. I'm desperate to fill the silence somehow

"You don't have to do that," he tells me, but I remember all of the things he didn't have to do for me but did anyway.

"I don't mind," I reply, mimicking his words from earlier. As soon as I say it, and before he can reply, I begin pulling stuff out to make dinner. It's not until I'm chopping up vegetables that I realise I'd invited him to stay for dinner and I wonder what's to make of that. Did this qualify us as friends? Had he even wanted to stay? Did I even want him to stay?

Oh well, I figure in the end. It will at least be less lonely than being on my own again.

**Tobias**

Watching her was effortless, automatic practically; looking away was the hard part. I'd been reluctant to leave and I worried I had made her feel obligated to invite me to stay for dinner. But my concern faded as she flashed me the occasional smile while she began preparing the food. I watched her figure out how to work her oven, I'd assumed this was the first time she was using it.

It was hard to believe anyone lived here at all, to be honest. Aside from a couple of boxes, one with clothes hanging out of it, there were no other markers that one had ever stayed here. Honestly I wondered if she ever even came home. I probably wouldn't if it were me. It would just make me more depressed.

Hence why I'm so surprised when she pulls out, of all things, a frying pan. "Where did you even get that?" I ask without thinking.

"Hm?" she asks, only turning her head slightly to look at me as she prepares one of the beef patties we bought earlier.

"It's just…" I start, too late now to take it back and pretend like I had never noticed anything. "Well it's not like you own much else, like a bowl, yet you own a frying pan? Seems a bit random is all."

"Yeah," is all she says in explanation.

"We can go furniture shopping too you know," I offer, once again glancing to the empty room. Not even a bowl for Christ's sake. Even Abnegation allowed themselves things like beds and couches. They were deemed necessities and yet, she hadn't bothered to obtain them. You'd think they would have given her some basic stuff when she moved in, fresh out of the hospital and all.

She doesn't answer for a minute and I just kind of assume that means no. Then she's placing a paper plate in front of me. Beef patty with fresh tomato and lettuce cut on top of it and corn on the cob. Easily the best meal I'd eaten in months.

"This looks great," I say, balancing it on my knees for a second as I scoot over. She pulls herself up next to me and we sit close enough that my knee nearly touches hers. "Thanks."

Eating is interesting as we both manipulate cutting meat and eating corn on the cob without making an utter mess. "I guess getting some furniture wouldn't be a bad idea," she finally says, several minutes later.

I laugh. "Nothing crazy, just a chair or table maybe." I think I hear her say "yeah" quietly next to me. I let myself think about it for just a second. Participating in something I should be doing with someone long dead. Instead I'm going to go do with some imposter that I'd come to think of as the same person almost. I think of Tris and I owning our own house in Dauntless, buying a bed to share and dishes to eat off of and a coat rack to hang our jackets right next to each other every night; a life that was supposed to be shared between two people forever that never even got to be.

Now I think of Elle. A bed just for her and only one set of dishes technically needed, her coat rack would share space only with her own belongings. How my own place mirrored the exact same thing. I bump my shoulder against hers, partially to get her attention and partially because the thoughts were depressing me and I'd come to find Elle was quite good for getting my mind off of things Tris related. Although I still wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.

"Dinner was great," I tell her and she smiles slightly, the tension in her shoulders finally fading a little.

"I was out of practise so I wasn't sure, but thanks."

Finally I hop down, deciding to excuse myself from her home and leave her be for a bit. I grab both of our plates to throw out but find no trash can. "I've been using that empty box in the living room for trash," she says.

Add trash can to the list. "Well thanks for dinner again but I should be going." She swings off too, I assume to see me to the door even the place is so small all she needed to do was turn around.

I've got my hand on the doorknob when she says, "Tomorrow?"

I turn quickly and ask, "What?"

"For um, furniture and stuff. I was just thinking…tomorrow."

"Oh! I would but I've got work stuff all day. Day after that?" I offer, trying not to smile too widely since I haven't really got a reason to in the first place."

Yeah, okay," she says and nods her head once.

"See you then." I close the door behind me and walk away smiling.


End file.
